Assassin
by Perfect Anomaly
Summary: I am cursed. Cursed with this Grace. And because of it, they will die. Fate has decreed it so. But I won't accept it like those before me. I will find a way to lift it...if I live, or if I die. Such is the life of those Graced with Assassination...


**A/N: hello people! My name is Wynter, and I have decided to publish my own Graceling fic! I haven't read Fire yet, but I'm hoping my school library will get it soon. In this story, there is another land as well as the seven kingdoms: the Central Isles, near Lienid. This fanfic centers around Wynter, the young princess of the Isles. She carries the Grace of Assassination. She must find a way, and quickly, to lift the curse that will kill everyone she loves and cares for. Such begins a journey across the kingdoms, to a land far beyond…**

**Chapter 1**

Until I was ten, they thought my Grace was enchantment.

I could call to one in my mind; make them do whatever I wanted. I could make snow fall from the sky. I could walk amongst wolves and wild creatures of the night without fear.

But then the truth was unveiled.

My Grace was not enchantment.

I am Wynter. And my Grace is assassination.

No one would ever suspect that a princess of the Central Isles was the one who would be sent out into the night as a silent killer.

"Your highness," a serving woman curtseyed. "Your seat is over there." She pointed to one next to a young girl of nineteen or so. I nodded to her and swept past, hoping that the wind wouldn't blow up the skirt and reveal the two hunting daggers I had strapped to my legs. Pretty much everything I had on me was a weapon. The chopsticks that kept my hair in a bun were actually thin knives, my shoes were reinforced with steel, and the fan thrust through my sash? Well, the top edge was razor sharp and capable of decapitating a man.

I walked over to my seat, sitting down and greeted the girl politely. She turned, and I froze, seeing her eyes. One as blue as the sky and one green as my own.

Katsa.

I turned to the girl who had just said hello to me. She was young, about only twelve, with black-blue hair, a small but still lithe and probably surprisingly strong build. I was about to reply when I saw her stiffen, eyes locking onto mine.

So she was another who was not prepared.

But then I glanced upon her eyes too, and nearly had a heart attack.

One as gold as the sun, the other as green as emeralds. With slit pupils, just like a cat. The eyes of an assassin.

Katsa.

The killer of Leck, once the personal thug of King Randa.

"Are you Graced as well?" she asked me.

I nodded. _Well duh,_ I thought. _Has anyone heard of someone with Graceling eyes but were not Graced?_

"What is your name?" she questioned. I looked at her. "My name is Wynter. You're Katsa, aren't you?"

Katsa looked surprised, but nodded. "What's your Grace?" she pressed on.

I snapped my fan open and hid my face behind it. Hopefully Katsa would get the message that I did not want to talk about that particular subject. Changing the subject, I called out, "Raphael!"

"Who's that?" Katsa queried.

"My brother," I replied. "Heir to the throne."

"Heir?" plainly Katsa was bemused, as Raph came over and sat down by me.

"Yeah, heir. He's the crown prince of the Central Isles."

Katsa blinked. "So…you're the princess of the Central Isles?" I nodded. "And you're the betrothed of Po, Graceling prince of Lienid?"

She observed me with her mismatched eyes. "You're not a mind reader, are you?"

I laughed. "No, I'm not a mind reader. I'm much, much more dangerous than that."

Katsa actually took me seriously.

Me and Katsa became fast friends, both having been under the pressure of our Graces' burdens. I haven't told her what mine was yet, only hinted. I was pretty surprised when she told me her Grace was actually survival, not killing. "I once thought my Grace was something else, too." I said.

Meanwhile, Po and Raph were talking about imports or roads or something just as dusty and boring as that. I leaned back in my chair after taking a chunk out of a tough piece of venison. "I would like to have a fight against you one day," I commented. Katsa stared at me.

"Do you have a fighting Grace?"

"Well, no, not exactly."

"Then I advise you not to," Katsa replied grimly.

"Don't underestimate me," I told her. "Not many people fight against me unless they are fully armed or have a death wish."

She looked at me. "Well then, I will fight you, on one condition." I stayed silent, because I already knew what it was.

"Tell me your Grace."

"It's better if I tell you in private," I finally said, giving in. I stood up, Katsa following. I curtsied to King Raffin, host of the party. "Please excuse us." He nodded and waved for us to go, and continued with his conversation on crops.

"Well, spill the beans," Katsa folded her arms in the training yard.

I sighed. "My Grace is assassination." She nodded, thoughtful. "It makes sense."

"My Grace helps me with a lot of things. I'm the only person in the empire who can ride a horse at full gallop in a skirt."

Katsa cracked a smile. "I wish my Grace allowed me to do that."

Encouraged with her good humour, I continued, "Strategy, silence, swiftness, skill in hand-to-hand combat and weapons all come as well. There's no one who can beat me in chess where I live."

"Can you demonstrate to me a skill?" Katsa asked.

"Already have." I held up one of her earrings. "You have to be impossibly fast." I handed it back to her. Going into the training shed, I picked up a massive longbow, but still nowhere as big as mine at home. Katsa peered in as I proceeded to string it. "You sure you can do this?"

I hooked one end of the string over one end, and bent the bow so that I could slide the other end over the other side. Selecting a quiver of arrows, I emptied it all into one dummy. "Wow, you're good," Katsa smiled.

"Thanks." I looked at the dummy. Arrows riddled its surface, all of them killing shots. They were all clustered around the heart meridian, or stuck in its forehead or in the throat or somewhere just as deadly. A lump rose in my throat, as I remembered.

Assassination was not a Grace, nor was it a gift. It was a curse. Everyone who was close to me would die because of it. Fate had decreed it so centuries ago. Now it was a question of who would be first.


End file.
